


Lie Down Together

by GretaOto



Series: A Cord Of Three Strands [2]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Cuddling, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Multi, OT3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-18 22:56:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4723397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GretaOto/pseuds/GretaOto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>”If two lie down together, they will keep warm/but how can one keep warm alone?”</i> </p>
<p>Following the events of Not Easily Broken, things that were shaken loose come to light in the darkness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lie Down Together

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn’t leave Eliot unhappy. I just couldn’t. He deserves to love, and be loved in return. So here, have some fluff!
> 
> (Completely un-Betaed, so please let me know if you spot any distracting mistakes.)

Alec stands in the darkened doorway to his room, watching the two people he loves most in the world. Eliot is asleep on his back, one arm behind his head. His other arm is wrapped carefully around Parker's ribs. She is curled around his side, half on top of him, face tucked into his neck, legs tangled with his, one arm thrown across his chest. A single blanket covers their feet, unneeded in the heat in their cheap New Mexico motel.

After they had escaped the Texas lock-up, the team made it just over the border before Nate called a halt. Time to go to ground, rest and recover, erase their tracks before attempting to fly home. It has meant several long, stuffy nights in Lucille for Alec, watching their six with as many digital eyes and ears as he could hack. Sometimes, sitting in that van, he feels like Mr. Universe – everything going somewhere, and him going everywhere. Finding the truth in the signal. 

And other times, knowing that his teammates, his _best friends_ were hurt (arguably by his fault, his negligence), he feels as though he too has been run through with a sword.

Alec doesn’t know how long he stares, lost in thought, before he notices Eliot watching back, eyes gleaming in the thin glow of the street lights through the shoddy motel blinds. The rest of his face is hidden in shadow, any expression concealed in darkness. 

It's another long moment before Alec breaks the silence. 

"I could have warned you, she can be a bit of a cuddler sometimes."

Eliot doesn’t respond. Alec wonders if Eliot does, in fact, sleep with his eyes open. It would certainly explain a few things, like his uncanny ability to go from horizontal to vertical and fighting in less time than it takes an Italian supercar to go from zero to sixty. 

"It’s not what it looks like.”

Eliot's sleep-roughened voice is for once devoid of growl. It’s more like a chord, a minor suspended seventh, hanging there, begging for resolution. Notes of longing and guilt, weariness and uncertainty war with each other. 

Alec pauses. That’s not what he had been thinking, not even close.

"It looks like she was having nightmares, and didn’t want to bother me, so she came and found you instead.” His tone is calm, factual.

“I came to her. She was having a nightmare. It’s a very distinctive whimpering.” The notes of guilt in Eliot’s words are more pronounced now, even in his hushed whisper.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s not my place,” he apologizes, moving to extricate himself from the tangle of Parker. 

“No, don’t leave.” The words are out before Alec has a chance to think better of them.

Eliot stills again, the tense stillness of prey that has heard a predator. 

Alec ponders his next words carefully. They’ve been slowly moving this direction for a long time. It started after that whole deal with Moreau. When the team didn't reject him for his past, Eliot stopped rejecting their little touches, their hints of affection. But until now, he’s never returned or initiated them. 

Alec’s response could determine the fate of their whatever-it-was.

“I have nightmares too.”

His words hang in the hushed air. Something is forming in the dark between them, a fine gossamer thread, so tenuous Alec barely dares to breathe.

“This bed is big enough for three,” Eliot whispers. Then, faster, as if to get the words out before he can stop himself, he adds, “there’s plenty of room on either side.” He pulls his free arm out from under his head, making space, inviting.

Alec grins, his lips curling up in reflection of the sudden warmth curling deep inside him.

“Well in that case, I won’t disturb Parker.”

Alec crosses the room in a few soft strides. He slips in along Eliot’s other side, curls up facing him but not touching him yet, mindful of healing ribs, giving him space. After a moment, Eliot rolls his head to face him. Alec can feel the warmth of his breath. They are closer than they have ever been, and it should be awkward, but it’s not. It is the opposite of awkward.

They lay like that, not speaking, just breathing, soothing and soothed by the company of the other. In no time Alec is almost asleep, his eyes drooping closed. It’s been a long week.

“I was afraid you’d been captured too. That I didn’t warn you in time, that I’d failed you too.”

Eliot’s confession is sudden, but welcome. It gives Alec the courage to take one more leap of faith.

“I worry about you too, Eliot. All the damn time.” 

And then, before he can talk himself out of it, Alec leans forward the last couple of inches and lightly kisses the tip of Eliot’s nose. He briefly catches Eliot’s stunned expression before ducking his face down to rest against Eliot’s t-shirt clad shoulder.

The silence this time is like a suspended rest, waiting, indeterminate.

“Alec.” Eliot’s rough whisper is strained. And Alec can’t think of the last time Eliot has called him by his given name. He looks up, curious, hopeful.

Eliot pauses, moves forward. He brushes their lips together, the barest contact, almost too fleeting to be called a kiss, then closes his eyes and presses their foreheads together.

“Dammit, Hardison.” His voice is filled with longing and frustration, unable to find the right words. But those are the only two words Alec needs.

“I love you, too,” he breathes.

Eliot doesn’t disagree, just nods once and lets out a shuddery breath.

Alec scoots closer, mirroring Parker’s still-sleeping curl, and rests his head on Eliot’s chest. His feet are basically hanging off the bed, Eliot’s feet bumping against his knees, but Eliot is warm and solid and perfect. Eliot snakes his arm under and around him, gripping Alec firmly around the shoulders, pulling him in tight, heedless of his own half-healed wounds. Alec reaches over Eliot to lightly stroke Parker’s cheek, then feels around for her fingers. She squeezes his hand in return; agreement, support, love. 

A moment later, Eliot hugs them both tighter. His answering “I love you too” is almost inaudible yet full of wonder. 

And clearly meant as “I love you two,” in his emphasis on the third and fourth words, in the way his arms lock equally tight around them both, holding all their nightmares at bay.


End file.
